


frostbite

by mintwoozi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 21/22 year old idiots under the cherry blossoms what more do you want from me, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Eventual Romance, M/M, Slow Burn, Young Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, implied r76, rating will change as things progress, too many cherry blossoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8715280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintwoozi/pseuds/mintwoozi
Summary: In by spring, gone by winter. That's how most of Blackwatch missions go; at least for Jesse McCree. In and out. But for the first time, thanks to some brooding, dusky-eyed boy, he ends up with an impossible longing for winter to never come. Jesse and Hanzo meet as young adults in Hanamura, just as the fragile balance of the Shimada family threatens to fall apart.





	1. april 24th

A low whistle was all that Jesse could offer as he tilted his head back, drinking in every color, pastel hues and glowing shades he'd never been offered on occasion. Hanamura was a sight to behold. A soaring sky of blue, dotted with cherry blossoms at the edges. A tall, almost imperial structure looming in the distance, its shadow but a mark upon an immaculately cleaned path. He'd be damned if the place was anything but beautiful. 

And with that, he was definitely in the wrong place. At least, that's what he thought.

With a sigh, he fished out a comm from his pocket. Blackwatch wasn't well-known for its -- well -- _accommodating_ mission locations, but this place (Hanamura, was it?) was a far cry from the dingy towns, or the derelict cities in which Jesse had the absolute _pleasure_ of living in for months at a time. This couldn’t be the right place. He’d bet his finely-carved ass on it, honestly.

When Reyes told him his mission would involve spending a couple months in Japan, he’d honestly pictured something worse than this. Darker alleys, bodies littering streets on the regular. Dark-toned hues and greys and blues, nothing short of a bruise. 

A cherry blossom fluttered down onto the rim of his hat, teetering for dear life before settling on his palm.

He blinked. Twice, even. This _seriously_ couldn’t be the right place.

Jesse nudged a couple switches before the comm feebly crackled to life, reliably so. He brought it up to his ear, tucking it between his shoulder and the crook of his neck, a balance which could only be cultivated by familiar habit. 

As a soft, computerized voice prompted him to stand-by, Jesse couldn’t help but train his eyes on the sight before him. There were blossoms as far as the eye could see, pink clouds on land, and children laced between the trees in a game of tag. Something he sensed in their laughter left him feeling a familiar pang. Not jealousy. Just pure, unadulterated yearning to be, well, free.

_Gabriel Reyes, now connecting. Transmission received._

He waited a beat before Reyes’ voice seeped out the other end, sleep-laced and dry.

“This better be good, _lobito._ It’s – ”

“3 in the mornin’, I know, I know. But shouldn’t y’be workin’ overtime, chief?”, he quipped. 

“Don’t you go smart-mouthing me this early.” There was a growl somewhere in-between, meant to be menacing - but even Reyes couldn’t manage to keep his voice below the feeble key of a high C.

A rustle of bedsheets followed suit, and Jesse swore he could hear Commander Morrison’s voice as well, muffled somewhere in the background; he took silent note of this, he’d never let Reyes live it down. 

“Anyways, I think there’s been some kinda misunderstandin’.” He stared down at the blossom in his hand, contemplating something he couldn’t quite grasp.

“What, do you need another briefing to get it through your thick head, _cabrón?_ ” 

The nickname already had Jesse scowling to high heaven. 

“Didn’t y’say that Hanamura’s some criminal empire? A den of yardbirds or somethin’?” There was a brief murmur of air. Probably a yawn, Jesse offered up a guess. 

Sleep grated against Reyes’ voice, rendering it darker than usual.“What a surprise, you actually listened.” 

Jesse had definitely listened. The recon strategies, the thick blocks of text tucked in manila folders, and how could he forget the lectures he’d endured from Overwatch’s very own boy scout, Jack Morrison? He’d survived the works. But nothing, _nothing_ had prepared him for some sugarcoated Ghibli film of a town. The rest of his words spilled out of him in a jumbled mess.

“I just…didn’t expect somethin’ so pink, t’be honest. This ain’t what I thought it’d be.” 

A harsh laugh crackled over the other end. It did little to extinguish the pooling doubt in his stomach.

“It’s interesting, isn’t it? Last place you’d look for a criminal organization,” Reyes remarked.

“I’ll say. This looks like a damn _tourist spot,_ chief.” 

He really couldn’t tell if it was the jet lag, or the hazy eyes, but Hanamura seemed to glow. Even the trees seemed to be swaying in two-four time. God, he needed caffeine. 

“How long m’I here for, again?” Jesse asked. 

“Eight months, give or take. That’s plenty of time to gather some intel, eh?” 

Jesse could barely manage the ear-splitting cackle that came afterwards. 

It was easy enough when he actually blended in. The Texan assignments were his favorites - he wasted no time on clattering round town, proudly displaying his bullet-laid Stetson for all to see. But here, he was nothing short of a mess, a sore thumb; still a kid who stumbled over spurs and a heavy accent to boot. 

He stuck out. Badly. Jesse McCree wasn’t known for being beauty, or grace, or Miss United States. He was a little too tall, a little too _foreign_ to get away with anything in Hanamura. 

“Hey, _lobito._ You still there?” 

Jesse found himself nodding, his subconscious responding faster than he could.

“I’m gonna assume you’re still listening. So your cover-up’s simple. Here’s how it goes - ”

The following briefing was simple enough, if one could disregard the sheer torrent of information he had to take in. Jesse would pose as an agent for an American weapons dealer. All the paperwork, all the appointments were done and taken care of. A supposed trade-off of LMG’s and standard explosives was fabricated and sealed, nothing for him to do other than fake a signature. The rest of the months, he’d be free to explore, and ‘enjoy’ his time in Hanamura. 

“ - and that’s where recon comes in. You try to dig up as much as you can on them. Contacts, files, word of mouth, you name it. If not, _dios mio_ , Jack’ll never let me hear the end of it.” 

Jesse really needed coffee, or at the very least, a nap at this point. A yawn threatened to escape him at the thought of a nice bed. The mission could wait for a couple hours. Or a couple days. He could hibernate just as easily as a goddamn bear. 

“Don’t hafta tell me twice. Is that everythin’?” 

The conversation froze for a moment, dampened by a beat of silence, before blank notes of feedback echoed off the other end.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Reyes spoke, flippant tone and all, as if he was flinging his words at Jesse off a rubber spoon. 

“You’ll be tutoring the Shimada boys. Figured we’d throw in an extra perk to convince them you were the real deal.”

Jesse suddenly didn’t feel so tired anymore.

“Tutoring…who? The fuck, chief? You said this’d be simple!” 

“Easy there, cowboy. It _is_ simple. Just teach them how to shoot, or throw in a couple hand-to-hand tactics. Besides, you do a good job, and big boss Shimada just might make you a part of the family.” 

Jesse probably would’ve found _some_ humor in that last line, if not for the incessant buzzing in his ear. Him, teaching the heirs of one of the largest criminal conglomerates? God. He didn’t need coffee, what he _really_ needed now was a good, cold shot of whatever the nearest bar could offer.


	2. april 24th (and a half)

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had tea. 

Jesse lifted the cup to his lips, cringing slightly at the heat. It was somewhat bitter, scented green, and surprisingly earthy, but nothing of its warmth seemed to transfer to his own frigid hands. One hand steadied the cup, the other shook in his pocket, cold sweat tracing his fingertips, tapping against the lining in some godawful sort of a steady rhythm.

The room itself, which he was sitting uncomfortably within, wasn't helping him either - it was cavernous, to say the least. Wooden beams soared across the ceiling, stretching far and wide and leaving a rather _empty_ sensation, all in all. Two suited men stood at either side of the entrance behind him, hair deftly slicked, stoic eyes trained on Jesse's back, boring holes into his , and, if Jesse wasn't mistaken, ink-dark tattoos peeking out past their pressed sleeves. 

But that wasn't even the worst of it. Across him, legs neatly folded in a soft kneel, was a man of irrefutable grace; his figure draped in traditional garb, one that Jesse couldn't name even if his _life_ depended on it. He was everything his file had detailed, and more: Takeshi Shimada, head of his clan, and the many criminal rings it was linked to. His features were well-worn, not only with age, but with pain, with scars, with countless tragedies that Jesse couldn't quite count. 

And that made his gaze all the more deadly, which just so happened to be trained upon Jesse.

"We finally meet, マクリーさん. We have heard much about you." He spoke with measured elegance, something rare. 

"Likewise, sir. Gotta say, it's a real honor t'be workin' with ya. A real honor." 

The man said nothing in return, rather, he swept his hand up in one swift, fluid movement, which revealed a series of holographic screens. There were blocks of text, photos, several blinking icons scattered across the screens, all tinged in the slightest blue; most of it was heavily written in Japanese. But still, Jesse could barely keep himself from gawking at the sheer density of his so-called 'file'; Reyes hadn't been joking when he'd assured Jesse that everything had been taken care of. 

"Your history is quite _impressive,_ if I may. Not only a weapons negotiator, but a gunslinger as well?" 

The way the syllables rolled off his accent was nothing short of chilling, the faintest sensation of winter creeping up his spine. Jesse stared into his cup, somewhat hoping he'd drown in his tea. 

"Ain't no need for flattery. I do what I hafta do."

The man frowned, the slightest wrinkle pinching between his eyebrows -- he glanced at Jesse as someone else would look at a murder victim.

"Do not be too modest. All men must hold great honor in what they execute." 

Jesse gulped a little too soon, swallowing a thick pocket of air before he could choke out an answer. Boy, was he a mess.

"M'apologies. Haven't had much of a chance lately to collect any honor o'mine." 

Surprisingly enough, Takeshi chuckled. It was low and rather dark for a laugh, but regardless, it managed to ease Jesse's nerves, just ever so slightly. 

"You Americans and your humor. It is amusing." Another swift movement, and the screens flickered into nothingness. "Perhaps, this is an opportunity for you to achieve that 'honor' of yours. I assume you have been informed of my sons." 

By 'informed', Jesse had actually received pages of information on the two brothers from Winston in a poorly-timed email, just an hour before the meeting. The text was so _immensely_ dense, that he'd only been able to afford a quick skim of their profiles. There were no visual guides either, no photos to guide him in actually recognizing what the brothers looked like. He took another nervous gulp of air; at this point, he was practically a gaping fish. 

"Yessir. Uh - Genji and Hanzo, m'I right?" 

_Please be right._

"You are correct." 

Jackpot. Jesse couldn't help the quirk of his lip.

"They are both trained in archery and swordsmanship. However, I am afraid they will be unable to hold themselves in combat without the proper weapons." A sigh escaped Takeshi, laced with exasperation. "I could not help but arrange for your tutelage." 

"I'll do m'absolute best t'help, sir." Jesse's fingers deftly found the rim of his hat, tipping it forward. 

A smile ghosted the man's features, a subdued sort of expression. "I trust you will. As for the weapons deal, we will discuss further details in tomorrow's meeting. My associates have not yet arrived." And with that, the smile was gone just as quickly as it came, shadows settling upon countenance. "For now, I assume you are in need of rest. My men will show you to your quarters." 

Gesturing towards the two men near the sliding doors, Takeshi roughly let forth a smattering torrent of rapidfire Japanese, all of which Jesse could barely register in his system. There was something all-too intriguing about the language, the way the syllables ebbed and flowed; pale water choked in smoke and gold, a dangerous, yet oddly beautiful kind of conveyance. 

Jesse took this as his cue to stand up, hoisting himself off the floor. 

"I look forward to your progress, マクリーさん." Takeshi remained kneeling, but nevertheless, he bowed his head in assurance. Jesse attempted to do the same without looking like a complete fool (which really wasn't possible, he ended up looking idiotic regardless). 

And with that, Jesse was whisked out of the room almost immediately, ushered down a series of paths by Takeshi's men, who were painstakingly abrupt with their navigation. Turns were made, which were often quite sharp, and soon enough, Jesse was starting to feel a bit burdened with the constant movement. But the view made up for it. 

There was so much to see, so much to absorb - countless colors, hallways stretching as far as the eye could see. White pebble ponds and water so clear, it could've been the finest of glass. There were gardens dotted with even more cherry blossoms, the petals staining the lush green with varied notes of pink and white. These sights folded over and over in his mind, until the colors blended into one quavering rhapsody. 

He was shaken out his trance, at the sight of something dark, something sage and raven, hidden beneath one of the trees. Jesse strained to look closer, to grasp the sight, before the bodyguards could drag him any further down the hallway. 

It was _someone,_ rather than something. Someone dressed in paling blue and white, hair tied neatly up in a golden ribbon, vermeil in the light. For reasons unknown, Jesse found himself slowing down, in spite of the insufferable pace of the guards in front of him. There was just _something_ he couldn't shake, his eyes drawn to the careful, crafted elegance with which the figure held himself. His back was turned, yet, there was an inescapable aura of finesse. 

An arrow whistled past the falling petals, hitting a target with perfect precision across the garden's vast scape. Jesse let out a low whistle at this, which unfortunately, had the audacity to echo across the garden. The figure whipped round at the sound, ribbon snapping just as quickly in reaction - it flickered gold and so did the bow in his hands, arrow notched with shimmering colors. 

Something jolted in Jesse, an unnervingly strong wave of _embarrassment,_ and he quickly turned his gaze away from the garden, hurrying himself back down the hallway. He didn't bother to look up as they turned yet another corner, marginally aware of someone's gaze boring into his retreating back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so happy that people like this!! i was pretty worried, since this is the first time i'm uploading something here..you guys are awesome!!
> 
> other notes: every time mccree's referred to as "mccree-san" will be written out in japanese. idk, it just feels awkward for me to write it out in english...i'm weird. 
> 
> also, i decided to name the shimada dad boss big man takeshi, because i couldn't find his canonical name ANYWHERE. it took me a good hour of googling to finally give up tbh


End file.
